On Saturday, when Jesus still sleeps in the tomb, we are still.
Deidra started it, really, when she asked about favorite books and when I mention a certain trilogy to a thirteen-year-old boy he says he wants to read it too.
Let’s read it together, he says.
When they were small, I would tuck them in with an hour of reading but it’s been years and when he says that my heart feels homesick for the sweetness of those days.
How many thirteen-year-old boys want to pass time reading aloud with their mamma?
There are so many things that want to take me away and I have my grown-up reading that I need to do but we start reading together and we plow through that first book in a few days. Every night we read and in the hours between we talk about the story, about the characters, wonder what will happen next.
This is the boy who never would sit still to read when he was small. When his brother and I were curled together around crisp pages, he would listen while he ran around the room—made busy with a hot wheels car or some stuffed animal.
But on Saturday, when Jesus still sleeps in the tomb, I say to him, we don’t have to be anywhere today.
And he knows exactly what I mean. So we drag a thick blanket out under the plum tree and we read all afternoon in the dappled light of sun filtered through those purple leaves.
I study his face as he studies the page and I notice a fine line of hair above his lip that never used to be there before and my heart twists just a wee bit. This boy is growing up but he still wants to spend hours with his mamma in the afternoon sun reading. The gift of that settles over me and I roll on my back and look up at the blue of the sky peeking through the shelter of leaves. A mamma white-crowned sparrow watches me from a limb above and I can hear her nest of babies calling to her from the box nearby. Her anxiety is evident as she flits from limb to limb and I understand her plight.
Isn’t my nest still full too?
In a few weeks, her hatchlings will fledge and this anxiety will be a distant memory. But right now, she feels the pull of those hungry mouths, her every thought for them. I watch her perch on the door of the box and disappear inside.
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
the Playdates button:
Sharing with L.L. Barkat today also: